Letting Go
by Freckles04
Summary: Callie Tabris comes to terms with her past after her painful return to Denerim's Alienage. One-shot.


_A/N: The world and characters of Dragon Age belong to BioWare, and I offer my deepest thanks to that company for encouraging community creations._

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The sword sank into the tree with a satisfying thunk, much like it had carved into the massive blue-skinned hide of an ogre. Callie wrenched it free, feeling a moment's pity for the ancient maple, then cut into it again. She was no Dalish with their odd love of the wilderness; the tree was here, darkspawn weren't, and she needed to vent some of this frustration before she exploded.

Slavers in the Alienage. Slavers. By Andraste's holy knickers. Suddenly the imaginary darkspawn in front of her transformed into Loghain, with his dark hair and hooked nose. Bastard. King-killing betrayer. If they hadn't gotten there when they did...Maker, her father would be on a boat to Tevinter right now. A slave.

She roared, swinging at the tree with as much force as she could muster. The blade bit deep into the bark--and lodged there.

"Damn it," she muttered. She told herself that the wetness on her cheeks was purely from the exertion of trying to remove the sword from the trunk. That's all. It had nothing to do with the flood of memories and feelings renewed by seeing the Alienage again.

"Want to talk about it?"

Callie swiped the back of her hand over her face, but plate gloves did little to soak up tears. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Alistair stepped forward and grasped the hilt of the sword. With a grunt, he pulled it free and handed it to her. "If you're hallucinating that the trees are trying to attack you, maybe we ought to speak with Wynne."

"Stop being such a smart ass."

"I can't. It's in my blood. And you love me for it."

"I don't love you." Callie tossed her weapons to the ground instead of sheathing them. The clang they made against each other suited her mood somehow. Her traitorous heart twisted at her sharp words, but she forced herself to ignore it. She wouldn't love him.

"Callie...look." The ex-templar blew out a breath. "I didn't seek you out to pester you. I just thought you might need to talk."

"Because talking solves the world's problems," she snarled. She jerked off her gloves and tossed them beside the sword and dagger. The plain steel band she wore on the middle finger of her left hand glinted in the waning light. She saw Alistair's eyes linger on it, but he said nothing.

"We don't need to solve the world's problems. Not tonight, anyway." He settled down against a rotting log and patted the ground beside him. "Come. Sit."

"I'm no mabari for you to command."

"Callie..."

"Fine. Fine. I'll sit. Maker knows what good it'll do." She continued grumbling as she arranged herself beside him, making sure there was an arm's length between them. She couldn't bear to be touched. Not now.

She waited for Alistair to pepper her with questions, but he just sat there. The oppressive sounds of nature closed in on them: birds bidding the sun good night, crickets starting up, a bullfrog beginning his nightly serenade in the nearby pond. You'd think that after nearly a year of travelling and camping in the middle of nowhere, she'd be used to the forest. But being home today...

She blinked. Why in the Maker's name did she miss that hellhole so much?

"Aren't you going to say something?" she demanded finally.

"No. You didn't want to talk."

She had said that, didn't she? She braced her elbows on her upraised knees and cradled her forehead in her hands. Confusion swirled through her, her emotions all tangled and incomprehensible. The only one that was clear was anger. And, oh, she had plenty of it.

"Loghain dies tomorrow," she spat.

"I'm with you on that. No question." Alistair leaned back. "I know you've mentioned it before, in passing, but...it's good to hear you say it. He needs to be brought to justice. For Duncan, for Cailan..."

"For my people!"

"Of course. Yes." He frowned at her indignant expression. "What?"

"You don't get it." Her churning emotions refused to let her sit still any longer. She leapt to her feet and began pacing. "Maker's blood. You have no idea. High-born bastard prince--"

"I'm a commoner," Alistair retorted, his brows drawing low. "My blood might be royal, but I'm not. I slept in the stables, remember? On hay?"

"Did you ever have to worry about the guards sweeping through the castle to round up 'troublemakers'?" Callie spun back toward Alistair, her hands gesturing wildly. "Or an arl's son deciding that your community was his personal whorehouse?"

Alistair rose to his feet, uncertainty flickering over his features. He reached out for her. "Callie--"

"Don't touch me." She stepped back, her hands outstretched to hold him off.

His arms dropped to his sides. "Talk to me. Please. We can figure this out."

"There's nothing to figure out." She took a deep breath, attempting to get her racing heart back under control. "He's dead. I killed him. His guards. His friends..." Maker--the first men she'd ever killed. And she'd do it again, without hesitation.

She slumped to the ground as her resolve abandoned her. Alistair was there, replacing her vanquished strength with his own. She sighed, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. "Shianni mentioned that I--that there was supposed to be a wedding."

"I remember."

"I didn't know my betrothed--arranged marriages are necessary to make sure that the different Alienages don't stagnate. But getting married meant I was finally an adult. The wedding had been moved up since Nelaros, my betrothed, had arrived early. And then Vaughn showed up."

Her shoulders tensed as the desire to hit something spiked within her again. Alistair's hands stroked her back, soothing away some of the rage.

"I have no words to describe that--that--" She blew out a breath. "Shianni knocked him out before he could do anything more than threaten us. His friends carted him away, and I thought that would be the last we'd see of him. He wouldn't want to admit he'd been bested by an elven maiden, after all. But, no. He showed up at the wedding. At my sodding wedding. He grabbed Shianni and three other girls, and struck me down. I woke up at his estate."

"He's dead now, right?"

"Yes."

"Just checking." Alistair's embrace tightened. "If he wasn't, I'd have to go finish the job."

A smile teased Callie's lips as she leaned back to look up at the ex-templar. "Thanks."

His gaze turned serious. "Callie, he didn't--"

"No. Soris showed up with Duncan's sword--"

"Duncan was there?"

"My wedding day was pretty eventful."

"Apparently." A gentle hand on the back of her head encouraged her to lean against him again. "Go on."

"I fought my way out. But not before they killed one of the girls. And--and Nelaros." Her throat clenched on his name.

"Oh, Callie. I'm so sorry."

"He was an idiot," she snarled, pushing away from her fellow Warden. "He shouldn't have been there. He was no warrior! He didn't know me, and yet he came after me. Why? Why would he do that?"

"Why wouldn't he?"

"I didn't even know him," Callie insisted. "I shouldn't be--this shouldn't--"

"Mourning someone isn't a weakness," Alistair said softly.

"It's a waste of energy." Callie rose and took a few steps away from the ex-templar. "Especially for a man I'd known for all of an hour. Not even." Her thumb rubbed the steel band on her finger like a dog worrying at a bone.

Alistair stepped forward and grasped her hand before she could pull away. He held it gently and brushed his finger over the ring. "You've had this since I met you. There's no magic in it--I'd sense it if there were."

Callie looked down at the ring. She'd gotten so used to its presence, she hardly felt it anymore. "It's my wedding ring," she breathed. "I found it on him--after."

"You wanted that life." His eyes brimmed with understanding. "A husband, a family, kids. Your own little place in the world."

She nodded, and the dam burst. The tears flowed; for Nelaros, for Shianni, for Valendrian, for all of her people who'd suffered because of Vaughn's actions and her retaliation. For Duncan, for Cailan. Maybe even a few for the Callie that might have been. The Callie that would never be.

Alistair held her through all of it. No complaints. No comments. Just a source of comfort, a bulwark in the encroaching darkness.

At some point, his lips found hers; or maybe she was the one who'd done the seeking. It didn't matter. Armor disappeared as surely as if magic were involved. For the first time in a long time, Callie just let herself feel, and not think. She let her body rule instead of her brain.

Afterward, she lay on her side, Alistair leaning over her. One of his fingers traced her pointed ear and travelled down her cheek to her chin. He took a breath like he wanted to say something, but remained silent.

"What?" she prompted, turning to look up at him.

"I was just thinking."

"For a fellow who pretends to be stupid, you think an awful lot."

"Ho ho ho. Funny." He flicked his fingertip against her ear in retribution, then sighed. "I know you didn't want this life, Callie, but would it be wrong to thank the Maker that you ended up here, with me?"

She was silent for a moment as she regarded him. "Maybe not," she admitted.

"Good," he said, "because I think...I know...Maker. I love you."

She waited for the panic. The fear. A shem? In love with her? A year ago, she would have laughed at the absurdity of loving a human. Six months ago, she would have been able to think of nothing but Vaughn. But now...

It felt right.

"I love you, too," she breathed.

"I'm sorry, what?" His eyes twinkled. "I didn't quite catch that."

She smacked a hand against his upper arm. "I love you, too, you fool."

"Oh, is that what you said? Good to know." He swooped in for another kiss, then pulled away with a groan. "We'd better get back to camp before they send out a search party."

"Let them search."

"And find us here? Without--without a tent?"

Callie chuckled at the alarm in his voice. "That didn't bother you an hour ago."

"Well, that's because I--we were, um, swept up in the moment."

"Coward."

"Damn straight. There will be enough gossip and giggling as it is."

"Alistair." Callie put her hand on his arm before he rose. The words she wanted to say, the ones she needed to say, wouldn't come. "Thank you," she managed.

He leaned closer and pressed a kiss to her forehead, an oddly protective gesture that made her feel even more loved than the words he'd shared. "We're in this together," he said. "Now, come on. Up you go. Let's go see what poison Morrigan will be serving us tonight."

"I'll be right there," Callie assured him with a smile. "I just...need a minute. Go ahead."

She could see in his eyes that he wanted to protest, but he didn't. After donning his armor, he slipped into the forest in the direction of the faint flames of the campfire.

Callie took her time putting her armor back on. When it was done, she made her way to the small pond nearby. She stared at the black waters for a moment, feeling strangely at peace. It took three good tugs to get the ring to come off, and it felt like she took a few slices of skin with it. When it was done, she laid it in the palm of her hand and studied it. Plain, simple; much like her life could have been, had circumstances been different. Had she not been who she was.

Her fingers closed around the metal band. It was time to stop living in the past. No, she didn't choose this life, but she didn't hate it, either. Maybe she wouldn't ever have a family, or children, but what had Wynne said? She could learn to find happiness and contentment in the fulfillment of her duty. And if she had a certain ex-templar at her side...it would be enough.

"Goodbye, Nelaros," she whispered. She threw the ring into the middle of the pond, and it slipped under the waters with barely a ripple.


End file.
